Last Italian Standing
by ShippingWriter
Summary: The Italian unification had finally come. Everyone was happy. They were finally one country. Many questions were asked. Would they continue to be governed separately, or would they have a conjoined government? But the most important question is the one no one thought of. There were two Italies. Which embodiment would represent the country? And what happens the one who isn't chosen?
1. Life Isn't Fair

_He knew this would happen eventually._

 _If history had taught him anything, it was that no country had ever stayed parted forever, with both parts still being considered one in the same._

 _He knew that, and yet he was still shocked._

 _He just wasn't quite ready yet._

* * *

 **Chapter 1- Life isn't fair**

* * *

Romano blinked and pursed his lips together. Surely he had heard his doctor incorrectly. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Coughing in order to conceal his shock, he gathered the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry, say again, please?" He managed to croak out. His doctor nodded, and checked something off on her clipboard. Since living countries would be something of an oddity to normal people, the countries each had their own special doctor to look after them, who knew the odds and ends of being a living country. Romano had just been visiting for a routine checkup. Instead he got a nasty surprise.

"I'm sorry to say, Italy Romano, that you are essentially ceasing to exist. Your portion of the country united with your brother's part, and therefore, only the existence of _one_ Italy is necessary. Since your brother is the more well-known part, generally speaking, he will remain in existence while you... fade away. I'm very sorry, I have no control over the matter. I would simply like to say that it has been an honor being your doctor, and I wish you luck with whatever may happen to your conscience." She smiled sadly and rested a hand on Romano's shoulder. He was too stunned to protest. _Fade away? Him? But... there were so many things he had wanted to do. It just wasn't fair. Not fair. Not fair at all._

"Not fair..." He muttered, starting to get angry. Recognizing his trademark signs of anger, his doctor scooted her chair back and held her clipboard up to protect her head. "This... _this isn't fair!_ " He screamed, throwing her stethoscope across the room. " _Why is this happening? What have I ever done to deserve this?! Why me?!_ " He felt his shoulders stiffen and realized that his hot tears were streaming down his face and dripping silently onto the floor. Glancing at his doctor, realizing that this was neither the time nor place for a childish tantrum, he sighed heavily and sat back down in the chair, a heavy weight settling in his heart. As his doctor scooted back over to try to calm him down, he felt the pressure overwhelm him. He just couldn't believe it. So, he decided it didn't matter anymore, he was essentially dying anyway.

He let himself burst into tears.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he wandered out of his doctor's office, depressed. How would he tell Feli? How would Feli react? Who else would he have to tell? What would Antonio do? The thought of Antonio caused him to freeze in his tracks, if only for a moment. The truth was, he had always liked Antonio and hoped they had something, but he was almost sure that he didn't swing that way, so he'd kept his emotions to himself. Oftentimes they'd gotten him into trouble, usually ending with him yelling out a loud ' _Chigi_ ' and running out the door. The problem, he realized as he pushed through the front doors of his doctor's office, was that Spain was always so happy-go-lucky. It was often hard to tell how he actually felt about a matter. He remembered how, as a child, he would abuse and curse at Spain nearly nonstop, yet that perky grin of his never once left his face. Walking along a lonely stretch of road, he wondered why. Why did he smile and take his constant abuse? He knew he liked Feli better-everyone did, it was no secret. So why didn't he just give him over to Francis or something?

 _I know he offered to take me._ He thought, kicking a rock into a pond and watching it sink, just like his hopes and dreams. _I remember, Spain went over to Austria's house and complained that I wasn't listening to him at all. The second he said he might not be able to handle me, Francis piped up with 'Then give him to me! Give him to me! Give him to me right now~!' But for some dumb reason, he said no and kept me. And what did that get him? Nothing worth his time, that's for sure._ Feeling tears start to well up behind his eyes, he slumped down next to the pond and watched them slowly drip down his nose, causing ripples on the water's surface every time they made contact. The ripples would be like the news. They would spread until they'd disrupted everything around him. Leaning his head back to let the sun shine on his face, he wondered what kind of funeral service his friends might arrange, if any at all. And what of his belongings? He never made a will, and he had no living relatives aside from Feli and their half-brother, Seborga. He guessed most of it would probably go to Feli, with Antonio keeping maybe one or two trinkets to remind himself of the brat he raised and watched die. Briefly, he wondered if he should write a personalized goodbye letter to each of them, but then decided he should probably do it in person. Sighing, he leaned back onto the grass and closed his eyes. What a bleak world this was.

Then, his eyes flew open.

 _No. I won't just sit here and feel sorry for myself. I don't have much time. She said I'd stop existing in about a week. So, I'm going to do anything I ever wanted to do, and to hell with the consequences._ Feeling newly empowered, he stood up and wiped his tears away. He splashed some cold water on his face, hoping it would provide an excuse to his red eyes, and forced a neutral expression onto his face. Then, he took a deep breath and practiced talking.

"Hey, Feli. Oh, this? I tripped and got some dirt in my eye, so I used some pond water to rinse it out. I'm fine now."

"No, I don't need to go to the doctor, Antonio. I washed it out of my eye already."

"Yes, I'm sure Feli."

"Yeah, thanks Antonio. I think a dry shirt would help a lot."

Nodding to his reflection, he turned towards the house that was sitting peacefully in the distance. He knew that both Antonio and Feli would be there, waiting to hear about his doctor's visit. He also knew that, in order to preserve their nerves, he would have to lie to them about it. As he dragged his feet along the path towards the house, an odd couplet sprang into his mind.

 _Can you have a war if nobody dies?  
Can you have depression if nobody cries?_

Though he had no idea what it meant, it felt oddly fitting. He mentally tucked it away, and rested his hand on the cold, solid doorknob. _This is it._ He thought, taking a deep breath. _No going back now, time to face the music._

Mentally bracing himself, he turned the doorknob and stepped into the house.

* * *

 **=End of Chapter One=**

* * *

 **Alright. So, I wrote this because it just randomly popped into my head the other day, for about the millionth time, 'How is Lovi still alive? For that matter, what about Prussia? Why does no one know these things?!' So, I finally decided to stop annoying myself and write something. This is my take on the aftermath of the unification of the Italian peninsula. I hope you like it. If you enjoy what you read, leave me a review. I write better if I feel encouraged.**

 ** _((Cover Image is by Sugardrop on Zerochan .net under the title "Italy Brothers". Go to Zerochan and put this in after the url: 846002))_**


	2. Excuses, excuses

**Chapter 2- Excuses, excuses.**

* * *

"Ve~ Welcome back, Fratello!" Italy chirped, bouncing into the hallway to hug his brother. "You're all wet, what happened? I thought you were going to your doctor's?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, you see..." Romano trailed off, suddenly annoyed at himself. He'd forgotten his excuse! What was it again...?

"Your eyes are red, Roma. Did you get something in them?" Spain wondered, wandering into the room to give him a hug as well. Romano smiled a bit inside, mentally thanking Antonio of reminding him of his alibi.

"Yeah, that's right. I got something in my eye, and my shirt's wet cuz I was trying to wash it out of my eye. But it's all good now. I got it out. So, stop looking at me." Spain laughed a little to himself, and hugged him one more time. Then, he dragged Romano into the kitchen with him while Italy went to go put his coat away.

"So, Roma." Spain said, handing the Italian man a freshly washed tomato, picked straight from his personal garden. "What did your doctor say, hm?" Romano froze, holding the tomato to his lips in mid-bite. His cautious eyes slowly looking into the Spaniard's curious ones. He felt his hands begin to shake as he realized he never came up with a fake doctor's report. _What would she have said? What did I go there for again? Let me see, it was..._

"Roma? Your checkup. How did it go?" Spain asked, sounding a bit concerned. Romano didn't normally freeze up like that, unless he was caught off-guard. _But that's silly_. He thought to himself, watching Roman's face contort in subtle confusion and desperation. _He knew I would want to know what his doctor said, right?_

"Oh, yeah. Well, she said that... everything was fine... but..." _Come on Lovino, think! What's something believable?_ "but... she said that... my mental state was unhealthy and I need to be outside more and crap like that."

"Isn't that normally something a psychologist would say?"

Oh. Yeah. Shit.

"Well, you see..." Romano said, mentally scrambling for something to say. _When did I get this bad at lying?!_ _Just last week I was convincing Feliciano that if he didn't eat more than pasta, he would turn into a box of angel hair! And now here I am, pathetically failing at creating a fake doctor's result! Come. On. I know you can do this!_ Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to try again.

But he couldn't think of anything.

He felt his face heat up as he watched Antonio's face change to look worried and then, to his horror, slightly suspicious. Spain opened his mouth to say something, and Romano felt all his hope drain right out of him. _Well, this is it. He's going to ask, and I won't be able to help myself. I'll tell him. He'll panic and try to find some way to stop or at least delay it. Then it'll just be even more painful for me when it actually happens._

But it never happened.

To Romano's relief, and slight annoyance, Italy chose that exact moment to skip in, singing a little song about rotini, and guide his brother to the kitchen table of Spain's house, gibbering about having invited Germany and Prussia to dinner. Romano sighed and sullenly slid into the chair his peppy brother led him to. Looking around the table, he noticed that Germany and Prussia were indeed there. Germany was asking Italy something about his chair and moving it back and forth. It was probably squeaking, judging by the fact that Italy left the room and came back with another one. Prussia, on the other hand, was saying something loudly to Spain and rolling bits of his roll into little balls. Romano rolled his eyes. Prussia always did this with Italian bread. He claimed it 'tasted better smushed' and then proceeded to force Romano to try it to prove his point.

It had just tasted like slightly dirty, flat table bread.

* * *

"So, How's everything going over in good old Deutschland?" Spain asked, spinning his pasta around his fork and looking over at the two Germanics. Germany went to wipe his mouth before he spoke, which gave Prussia the opportunity to interject with his opinions.

"You know what?" He started. "I think West has been spending too much time by himself with his paperwork and such. Honestly, It's like he's lonely or something." Germany sighed and set his napkin down.

"Bruder... I have a lot of paperwork. And work can't wait." He scolded, giving Prussia a stern look. "As for the country, it's doing surprisingly alright, judging on the amount of time I spend away from it."

"Sorry, Doitsu. But you know how much I hate the rain! I can't sleep on stormy nights! Besides, it's so lonely at home..."

Normally, this would be where Romano would interject with some comment about him finding it disgusting that Italy and Germany shared the same bed almost frequently. Today, however, his mind was anywhere but the dinner table. He silently pushed his pasta around the plate, even though Spain had made his favorite recipe, Bolognese with diced tomatoes and extra cheese, with a few small meatballs mixed into the sauce. He just didn't have the stomach for food at the moment. He was trying to make a mental checklist for his last few days. Watching Italy reach across the table and steal a small piece of tomato from Germany's plate, he ran through it again.

 _ **Romano's Checklist of Last Activities:**_

 _1\. Buy a giant tomato and see how much of it I can eat before I feel sick._  
 _2\. Finally teach that German bastardo a lesson he'll never forget._  
 _3\. Try to make Feli try to not be so happy-go-lucky all the time._  
 _4\. Write a will or something._  
 _5\. Tell Antonio how I feel._  
 _6\. Throw up in trashcan after talking to Antonio._  
 _7\. Probably buy some fucking tums or something to help with the barfing.  
8\. Buy Feli a cat.  
9\. And finally, make sure I go with no one else around.  
_

"What do you think, Lovino?" Spain asked, turning to him. Startled, Romano's head jerked up, realizing he hadn't been listening. He noticed everyone was looking at him, even Germany. Whatever it was, it had probably been an opinion question, and their opinions were usually different from his, so he went with a relatively safe answer.

"Not really." He said, glancing back down to his plate. Spain raised one eyebrow.

"Really? But I thought you would _like_ your walls to be yellow instead of brown." Pleased with himself for accidentally answering truthfully, Romano shook his head.

"I hate the color yellow. The only place that color belongs is on cheese, pasta, and some breads. Anywhere else is horrid."

"If you say so, Lovi." Spain sighed, turning back to the meal. _Of course,_ Romano thought, going back to picking halfheartedly at his portion. _It won't matter. I'll be dead in a week anyway._

As he popped a bit of bread in his mouth, trying to look normal, he felt an unusual dizzy spell settle over him that forced him to grab the table to stay upright.

 _Maybe sooner._

* * *

 **(So, that's the second chapter done, and all I have to say is oh my god you guys. Oh. My. God. I literally just posted this yesterday, and it already has 8 followers?! This is unreal. Is this not something anyone's done yet? I could have sworn it would be one of the most touched-upon aspects of the fandom, considering Italy and Romano are main characters and all.  
**

 **But seriously, 8 story followers in just over 24 hours.**

 **I feel so lucky I might cry o(╥﹏╥)o**

 **(Would you believe I write these chapters to heavy metal and video game music?** ≧ヮ≦ **)**

 **Okay, but seriously you guys, thank you so much, and be sure to tell me if you have any ideas or anything. It always helps me write to know I have support.**

 **Chapter 3 is coming soon!)**


	3. Wine and Counseling

**Chapter 3- Wine and Counseling**

* * *

"I don't understand." Romano groaned to himself, ambling around the edge of the pond at his local park in the light of the sunset. "I'm supposed to have a week. So why is this all starting now?"

Romano was worried. Not the kind where you worry that if you let yourself get careless with your work, you'll get fired. No, this kind of worry could only be caused by one thing.

 _My doctor told me I would have about a week left to live._ _That seems pretty straightforward, right?_ he thought to himself, kicking a pebble and watching it skitter across the pavement. _A week of life, and then suddenly anyone and everything you ever cared about suddenly gets brutally ripped out of your fingers by an evil knight with a blow torch and an evil grin who enjoys watching your pain and then he burns you alive and you yell for help but no one can hear you because the fire is sound proof. Simple._

Romano was also angry.

* * *

The reason Romano was worried was that it had been his understanding that one day he would simply just, stop existing.

He didn't know there would be agony.

So far that day his legs had given out from under him twice, he had nearly passed out in his front yard, and he kept seeing little white things swimming in his vision. Every step he took sent stabbing pain up his legs, and his head hurt like hell. And he still had six days of this! Rubbing his temples, Romano wasn't sure he'd be able to survive this much pain and aching. He was a country, he wasn't used to all this pain. This is what Humans suffered through. Countries were just supposed to peacefully fade. Suddenly, a horrible thought hit him like a truck.

Could he be turning into a human?!

Clutching a shaky hand to his chest, he half-heartedly assured himself otherwise. _That's ridiculous. Why would that happen? Once a country, always a country. Besides, I don't think that's even possible._

* * *

"Oh, I don't know, it might be possible." France said, with a curious look on his face. "But why would you ask me something like that? Do you know of someone who thinks that might be happening to them?" The dread in Romano's heart made him feel sick. _Might be possible!_ He came to France for comfort, not mental anguish!

"Oh, uh, no. It was just... hypothetical."

"Oh, I see. Well, if that's all you came to say, I would sure appreciate it if you would stay for awhile, sit down, maybe have some wine. You never stop by. How long has it been since I've seen you? Christmas?" Romano coughed a little, starting to feel embarrassed by France's sudden interest in him.

"New Years, actually. Of two years ago."

"Even more reason for you to stay a spell!" He smiled and pulled a second wine glass out of the cabinet. Then, in a musical tone of voice, he added "I won't take no for an answer, my boy~!" Realizing he was defeated, he slung his coat over the arm of France's couch and sat down. France poured a fruity-smelling red wine into a glass and handed it to him. He took it, muttering a 'thanks' and took a sip. It tasted like cherries.

"So, what's eating at you, my boy?"

"Eating at me?" France nodded and took a sip of his wine.

"Yes, you know. What's on your mind? What are you thinking about? Or in your case," He gently poked Romano's stomach, causing his to slap his hand away. "What are you _worried_ about?"

Romano froze.

"Uhh... worried? I wouldn't say I'm... worried... so to speak... just a bit... stressed." He muttered, taking another sip out of his glass. France always had the best-tasting wine, but no one could ever figure out where he got it. He had tried to ask once, but he simply dismissed it as an 'ancient French secret'. Obviously not believing his lie, France clicked his tongue and sighed.

"Can't stop worrying long enough to even tell the truth, Lovi? Let me put your mind at ease. I raised a young nation myself, you know. Mathew Wilson. Finest young boy anyone would ask for. Made Canada the wonderful place it is. You know him, correct?" Romano nodded, not quite sure where he was going with this. "Well, a lot of the time he had problems that he didn't want me to know about because the sweet boy didn't want me to worry. I found out, of course. But my point is that you and Mathew share a lot of the same body language. The way you're gripping your glass with both hands and crossing just your feet over one another tell me your incredibly worried about something. And I can help you with it, if you'll just let me." Shocked that he had figured him out so quickly, Romano glanced down at his feet. Indeed, his right one was resting on top of his left.

 _Maybe France can help you, what have you got to lose?_ A small voice rang out in the back of his head. He had to admit, it made sense. France was generally a good problem solver, when he wasn't off being a flirtatious skirt-chaser. But, at the same time... He was close friends with Antonio.

"Lovino?"

"Y-yeah, actually, there is something. I gotta get it off my chest. But you have to promise not to tell ANYONE. Not even Gilbert or Antonio. ESPECIALLY not Antonio. Okay?" He watched as Francis brought three fingers up to his mouth, and then down to his heart. His little 'I promise' gesture. _Okay, here goes..._

* * *

" _Mon cher Lovi_ , you cannot POSSIBLY expect me to keep this to myself!" France cried, setting his glass down with a loud clatter. "It's... this is... It's just-"

"A secret. Like you _promised_. Right?" Romano growled, glaring straight into his eyes. At first, France looked like he would argue. Put up a fight. Anything. But he just kind of sighed and leaned back into the couch.

" _Oui_. I'm a man of my word. No matter how much it may pain me to do so, I'll never tell another living soul. But, might I ask why you want this to be a secret? And why you chose to confide in me of all people? We're not the closest of people, after all." He was right. They weren't that close. It wasn't that Romano had been avoiding him. Although he didn't much care for any of Antonio's friends, he felt as though France was the least annoying out of them. When he wasn't off being a giant flirt, that is. However, the sheer fact was that France and the Italies lived very far apart, with little to no opportunity to so much as look each other in the eyes.

"Well, I picked to talk to you because you're one of those 'honor bound' people. I knew if I could get you to promise, you wouldn't tell. As for wanting it to be a secret... don't you think Antonio and Feliciano have enough problems as it is?" Sighing, the Frenchman nodded and picked his glass back up.

" _Oui_ , you have a point there. Is there anything else you need to say while you're here?" Good question. Did he? _Let me think... he's not telling... he promised that much._

"I have two final favors I need you to do."

"Oh? And what are they?"

"One," Romano said, taking a deep breath. "I want you to help me do some stuff I've always wanted to do. You know, help convince Antonio and such."

"Simple. And two?"

"Two..." He trailed off, his feeling momentarily halting his speech. "Two is that, when I'm gone, I want you to promise you'll help look after Feliciano for me." Smiling sympathetically, France put one hand on Romano's knee and nodded.

"I will. I promise."

Romano looked at France. He remembered hearing many people, England especially, complain about what a pervert he was. At this point in time, however, he was normal as could be. Maybe it was stress that wrangled him to sanity. Maybe it was loss. Maybe it was cherry wine. Whatever it was, Romano was glad that he was able to be serious when he needed it most.

"Oh, one more thing. I want that bottle of cherry wine."

"All of it? But that's not good for you."

"Who gives a fuck, I'm dying anyway!"

* * *

France watched Romano stroll down the walkway from his house, wine in one hand, iPod in the other. He had the ear buds in his ears and was currently listening to Heavy Metal. Taking a drink of the wine straight out of the bottle, he turned and waved good-bye to France. Then, he put the cork back on the bottle and ran down the street towards the bus stop. Sighing, France waved back. He felt bad. Really bad. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew there wasn't. Wandering back into his house and shutting the door, France noticed Romano had left his coat on his couch arm. Picking it up, he wandered over to the window. _No, I can't give it to him now._ He thought, watching Romano in the pale moonlight climb onto a bus. _I'll get it to him tomorrow, when I can start helping him with his last days. Poor kid._ Briefly, his eyes settled on the phone. Oh, how he wished he could call Antonio and explain what was going on. But a promise was a promise. France sat down on his couch and let out a long sigh. His foot nearly knocked into his wine glass, spilling it everywhere. Grabbing it to prevent that, he remembered the bottle he had given Romano. He laughed a bit when he remembered he was spending the night at Antonio's with Feli.

 _I wonder what 'Toni will say when he sees that bottle in his hand? I'll have to remember to ask about his reaction tomorrow._

With that thought, he carried the glasses into his kitchen and put them in the dishwasher, then hung Romano's coat on the doorknob of his bathroom to remind him of it. With that, promising himself to help Romano as much as he could, he went to go get ready for bed.

* * *

 **End of Chapter 3**


	4. Drunken Stupors and Stuffed Giraffes

"Roma! Is that a bottle of _wine_?!" Spain cried as Romano walked in the door.

Maybe walked isn't the right word-more like stumbled.

As Romano put his palm against the wall to keep him upright, Spain took the bottle from his hand and noticed how light it was.

"Roma, is this bottle empty?"

"Yeah, _sho_?" Romano slurred, tilting his head backwards for emphasis.

"Did you drink _all_ of this? How full was it when you got it? No wait, _where_ did you get it?" Spain asked, his voice raising in worry.

"Re- _laaaaaaaaaax_... I got it from your stubbly friend. It's perfectly saaaafe... an' yeah, I drank it all. Sho what?" Romano sat down on the floor and instantly became extremely interested his his feet. Spain didn't seem to hear his comment.

"Lovi, this isn't healthy for you... if you drink too much or too often, you can get alcohol poisoning, you know." Spain said, lowering his voice and putting a hand on his head to comfort him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Hey, have you ever noticed how feet are just like long flat hands? Maybe we all had foot hands and one day they all just kinda _poof!_ and got all long and flatty. What do you think, magical tomato goblin?"

Spain stared at Romano as he continued to poke his feet and make up stories about hands being flattened and put on the ends of legs. Then, he sighed and took another look at the bottle. A small sticker on the bottom told him that he had gotten it from France's private stock. _Of course. Francis let him get drunk. I'll have to pay him a little phone call._ Leaving Romano to his games, he picked up the phone and dialed the Frenchman's number.

" _Oui?_ " The sleepy voice came over the phone.

"Francis, we need to talk about Lovi."

"Ah yes, Monsieur Lovi. I expect he returned home on time?"

"Well, yes but-"

"And he arrived stone-drunk, I assume?"

"Yes, that's what we need to talk about. You see-"

"Antonio, I only gave him the bottle because the boy is troubled. With all he's going through, you can't seriously expect him to not act out a little."

"That's not the point, Francis. When he got home-" Antonio stopped for a minute and made a face. Then, he turned to look at Romano. He was silently crying on the rug muttering about his taco spider leaving him for a quesadilla butterfly. "Wait... troubled? Troubled how?" A string of quiet French curses floated through the phone, leaving Antonio confused and slightly irritated.

"I wasn't supposed to say that." France muttered, sounding guilty.

"Francis Bonnefoy, tell me what's going on with Lovi this instant." A heavy sigh came from the Frenchman's phone, creating a silence that settled between them for a few seconds. Then, eventually, Francis gave in.

"Fine. I'll tell you. But please don't get too upset." Spain nodded and sat in his armchair, watching Romano to make sure he didn't hurt himself.

"I'm listening."

* * *

Pain. Throbbing pain. That's the first thing Romano registered as his eyes opened. As his eyes moved, his vision blurred, like someone attempting to wipe paint off of a canvas with their shirt. Moaning in slight agony, he rested his head back on the pillow. Bed. He was in a bed, but it wasn't _his_ bed. Slowly, he inhaled, trying to catch a breath. He caught the scent of fresh ground cinnamon, like the kind they put on correctly made churros.

Spain. He was in Spain's bed.

Trying to remember how he got there, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the hall. He tried to stand and walk over, but his legs gave out. Too tired. He was just too tired. He flopped back down onto the bed. Someone walked into the room, and he strained his neck to see who it was.

"Spagna..."

"Hola, Lovino. How do you feel?"

"Like a butt sandwich..." He groaned, trying again to sit up. Spain handed him a glass of water, and he looked up at him, curious.

"It's for you headache, mi amigo. After being drunk, the hangover always comes with a headache, but staying hydrated can decrease the pain."

"What? How does that work?" Romano muttered, taking a sip.

"The alcohol takes the water from your cells, leaving your entire body dry. The headache is essentially a side effect of dehydration. So if you drink water, it helps with the pain."

"Whatever you say, Doctor Churro." As Romano finished the glass of water, Spain sat down next to him on his bed.

"Lovi... I need to talk to you about something." He said. Romano froze and slowly put the glass down on the night stand.

"Wh... what is it?"

"After you came home drunk last night, I called France. He told me everything."

"Oh.. he did?" _God DAMN that stupid Frenchman! After this I'm going straight to his house and-_

"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling stressed out, Lovi? I would have understood, it's not fair to compare you to your brother all the time!"

 _... and thank him for saving my ass._

"Oh, yeah... well, I didn't want to sound like a whiny prick, so..."

"You wouldn't have sounded whiny, Roma. Everyone needs attention. I'm sorry we've all been paying so much attention to your brother. France suggested you might like to go to the boardwalk tonight? If you like, I could take you." Romano had always wanted to see a boardwalk. Something about the idea of having almost an entire carnival over water just seemed strangely appealing to him.

"Yeah, all right. You can come." He said, careful to apply his usual 'I don't give a fuck' attitude. On the inside, however, he was excited.

* * *

"Come on, Roma! Let's go ride something! Like the Ferris Wheel!"

"I can't-I still have food! We're not allowed to bring food on the rides!" Romano yelled, shifting his hot dog to one hand so he could put his stuffed giraffe in the crook of his arm. They'd only been there twenty minutes, and already Spain was showering him with gifts and attention. He bought him basically anything he laid eyes on, and bought him every kind of snack they had. It annoyed Romano on the surface, but deep down he was happy. He was finally being treated as important. Also, he really loved board walks. Realizing he couldn't eat and hold his giraffe at the same time, he sat down on a nearby bench and set the stuffed animal next to him. Spain sat on the other side of it, and watched Romano eat his snack.

"So you like that, Roma?"

"Um-yeah, I guess." He said in between bites.

"If you like I can start making stuff like that, it's not that hard. Plus I could bake my own buns which would be much better than store-bought! What do you think?" Romano nodded and held up his hot dog, which was overflowing with ketchup, mustard, and pickle relish.

"Make it taste good, and I won't care what's in it. Well, for the most part. What is this here, anyway?" He pointed at a clump of pickle relish. "It tastes oddly sweet but tangy and it crunches." Spain inspected it.

"I believe that's pickle relish, Roma. It's just diced pickles."

"Well, whatever it is, we should buy some of it." He replied, going back to eating.

"Whatever you want, Roma."

"And we should get some more churro ingredients soon."

"If you want them, I'll get them." Romano finished his hot dog and glanced over at Spain, raising one eyebrow.

"Why are you agreeing to get me whatever I want? Normally you have _some_ sort of limit. What's going _on_ with you today?" Spain looked at him as if he had no idea what he was talking about, but Romano noticed him fidget in his seat a little. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he was worried about something. Deciding to put it aside and let Spain have his weird secret, he shrugged and muttered 'never mind'. Just then, someone who worked at the boardwalk set off a bunch of fireworks. Romano's attention was instantly drawn to the sky, gaping at the intricate designs they were able to create with little balls of airborne sparks.

"That's beautiful..." Romano whispered, forgetting to act in his usual tsundere personality.

"Very beautiful." Spain agreed. But he wasn't looking at the sky. He was looking right next to him, where Romano sat, staring at the sky with wide eyes full of wonder.

* * *

 **End of Chapter 4**

* * *

 **(( You all knew that was coming at some point, right? I mean, I clearly tagged the shipping on the fic, but just in case you didn't see it, I'll say it here: _There will be Spamano in this story._ Also, sorry it's taking me so long to come out with these, I'm in this mood where I think I suck at everything I do, so it's a chore to crank these out. As long as you like it, though, I'll keep writing. See you in the next chapter. ))**

 **((( OKAY. SINCE WHEN WERE THERE 21 FOLLOWS FOR THIS STORY?! HOLY CRAP! I feel so honored you guys... I hope you continue to like this story as I write more of it... )))**


	5. Secrets

"Romaaaa! Breakfaaaast!"

Romano groaned and rolled over in his bed, trying to block out the sun beams that insisted on slapping him into reality. _Nooo_ he thought, _I'm dying soon, let me be happy and sleep!_ After five long minutes of tossing and turning, squinting his eyes to block the harsh beams and muttering angry things to himself, he realized it was pointless to try, and got out of bed. Feeling too lazy to change out of his sweatpants and loose shirt, he padded down the carpeted stairs, yawning and stretching.

Suddenly, upon reaching the bottom, his vision turned white and he had to cling to the banister to steady himself. _Deep breaths..._ he thought to himself, closing his eyes and willing his vision to return. Somewhere in the background he could faintly hear Spain's voice, calling out to him. He wanted to respond, but he felt too dizzy. His limbs were too heavy. His eyes felt as if they were glued shut. His body was going numb. He felt helpless. Suddenly, as he developed a floating feeling, he thought that he might be dying, that this was it. _N-no... this can't be it! I-I... I never got to... I never got to-_

"Roma, please! You're scaring me!"

Suddenly, his conscious came crashing back down to earth. Slowly, and with great difficulty, Romano opened his eyes. Spain was carrying him into the kitchen with great worry written across his face. _Well, that explains the floaty feeling..._ he thought to himself, tapping Spain on the shoulder. Spain stopped walking and looked down at him, his eyes brimming with relief and tears.

"Oh thank heavens Roma... you collapsed at the bottom of the stairs and I was afraid you were hurt! I tried to wake you up but you didn't even move! Thank heavens you're okay! If you had been hurt I wouldn't know what to do! I just... I..." Suddenly, Spain burst into tears, burying his face in Romano's chest. Unsure of what to do, Romano awkwardly patted the top of Spain's head. _Why is he making such a big deal out of this?_ He wondered. _It's not like countries can die..._

It took him a minute to register the irony of his own sentence.

Eventually, Spain stopped crying and sniffed.

"I-I'm sorry for making your shirt all wet, Roma. I'll go get you another and and then we can have breakfast, alright?" Romano nodded mutely, and Spain set him on the floor and went upstairs to get him a dry shirt. Silently, he peeled his wet shirt off, and threw it to the ground next to him. He would put it away once he had the strength to walk again.

 _If_ he had the strength to walk again.

That 'if' was the thing that bothered Romano the most. He didn't want to spend his last days wheelchair-ridden! Bent on remaining mobile, he grabbed the wall and lifted himself up, pleased to find that his legs supported him once more. Hearing a scraping noise as he balanced himself, he turned to the wall. His hand was knocking against a framed picture. It was of Spain and Romano the very day he had been welcomed into Spain's home. Next to it was a picture of the two of them again, slightly older. Romano had been in his teens. He quietly laughed a bit, remembering how his voice had cracked and Spain had insisted he was starting to sound like him. All along the wall was picture after picture, one from every year of their life together. Spain called it his 'picture diary'. Romano called it creepy and a waste of space. Inching himself along the wall, just in case his legs gave out again, Romano made his way all the way to the last one. It had just been framed and hung three days ago. He stared into his own face. Though the expression was obviously tsundere, there was something deeper behind his gaze. Something that Romano feared he might never have again.

Happiness.

He glanced down at a little gold card he just noticed. On all the others, the cards read 'Boss Spain and Romano Ages xx and xx'. This one simply stated 'Spain and Romano.' and under it, 'Age of Independence'. Age of Independence? What did that mean? And why wasn't he calling himself that stupid 'boss' nickname anymore? Confused, he looked at the picture for some sort of clue. That's when it hit him. Spain had given him a small trinket that year, acting as if it was a huge deal. It was a large gold coin on a silver chain. At the time, Romano dismissed it as another strange present from the same strange man. Now, he pulled it up from around his neck and inspected it. There was writing on the back that he hadn't seen before.

It read "To Romano, with love from Spain. You've reached the age and state of maturity where there is no more for me to teach you. You've grown into a smart and capable young man, and I can't wait to see what kind of good you can do for your country in the future. As of now, you are officially emancipated from my care. I'll still look after you if you want, but if you wish to leave me behind completely, I understand. Do great things and make me proud. Spain"

Romano felt hot tears streak down the bridge of his nose. _He... emancipated me...?_ Flipping the coin over, he say a small picture of a tomato on the front. Snorting slightly at the nearly overused icon, he flipped it again and reread the back. A huge wave of emotion hit him like a truck. Clutching the coin to his chest, he sunk back down to the floor and stared straight ahead, trying to prevent any more tears from being shed. He was touched. Spain thought he was mature enough to take care of himself. _That must mean... he trusts me._ Looking to his wet shirt that he had left on the floor, he wondered if Spain would be able to handle him leaving. He knew he would be fine, but what of the happy-go-lucky Spaniard?

A splitting headache reminded him that no matter what, it wouldn't make a difference in the end. Either way, Spain would be alone, now Romano had a choice to make. Spend his last few days free but lonely? Or spend them smothered but safe? He would have to choose eventually. But as Spain came down the stairs humming to himself, Romano decided that now was not that time.

"Here you are, Lovi! I got you your cozy white t-shirt." Spain chirped, handing it to him.

"Uh, thanks..." He muttered, pulling it on.

"So! Are you ready for breakfast?" Spain asked. When Romano nodded, he said "Do you think you can make it to the kitchen table on your own?" Romano nodded again, and then stood. The world swooped and dove around him. Annoyed at this sudden dizziness and confused as to why he didn't feel it earlier, He sunk back down to the floor.

"I... don't think I can do it." Giving him an understanding smile, Spain picked his up and carried him to the table on his back. Then he set him in his chair and went over to the stove.

"We're going to be trying something different, today. I took one of my recipes and changed it a bit. Also, I'm making pancakes!"

"Are the pancakes the new thing?" Romano asked, trying to remember a time when Spain had ever made pancakes.

"Yep! But they're my secret recipe full of love and cinnamon!"

"You just gave away one of the 'secret ingredients', you dipshit."

"Oh no, I did, didn't I? Ah well, you don't know _all_ of them, at least." Putting two pancakes onto a plate, he set them in front of Romano and then put a glass of milk next to it.

"Why the fuck are they lumpy?" Romano asked, poking one with his fork.

"Just try it, Lovi!" Shrugging, he picked it up with his fork and took a bite. The taste of cinnamon and chocolate flooded his mouth. Realizing why they were lumpy, he set it back down.

"It's chocolate filled?"

"Si! It's a churro pancake!"

"Of course it is." Romano sighed, amused by his unnatural love of churros. "You could have just drizzled the chocolate on the outside or something."

"But that wouldn't have been as fun!" Spain insisted, taking two for himself and sitting down. They ate in silence for awhile, the only sounds being the clanking of their silverwear on the plate, and Romano slurping his milk lethargically. Spain opened his mouth to say something, but just then the doorbell rang.

"Oh! I'll get it!" Spain chirped, bouncing out of the room. Spain shook his head, taking another sip of his milk. He could just barely hear Spain taking to someone in the other room. He briefly heard his name mentioned and Spain say "Oh, you want Romano? He's in here." And then two pairs of footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Spain walked back in, followed by France.

"Bonjour, Lovi!" France said, extending his hand. Romano shoved a piece of pancake in his mouth and ignored him. Seeing France's slightly confused expression, Spain explained.

"Romano's had a tough morning... he collapsed at the bottom of the stairs and is still having trouble walking. He's been in a bit of a foul mood, and I honestly can't blame him. Collapsing isn't fun."

 _That's not why I'm mad you bastard._ Romano thought. France seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he locked eyes with Romano.

"But anyway, you said you had something to say?"

"Oh, yes, that's right." France said, sitting down in an extra kitchen chair. "Romano, have you ever been to the zoo?"

"Um... once, when I was a little _bambino,_ I think so. Why?"

"Well, you seem kind of down lately, I thought you might like to go."

"Is your other friend Prussia gonna come?"

"That depends, why?"

Even though most of the time Romano hated his guts-always going on about how 'awesome' he was-he realized that if he never saw him again, he would miss him. A little. Deep deep _deep_ down. Probably.

"Well I mean, he can come if he wants to, I guess."

"Oh, that's great news!" France said, leading Romano to believe he'd wanted him to come all along. "I'll tel-er, _ask_ him next time I see him."

"Great." Romano muttered, going back to his milk.

"Oh, you'll love the zoo, Lovi! So many cool animals!" Spain said, coming back into the room with Romano's stuffed giraffe from the boardwalk. He set it next ot Romano's arm, and then walked over to the stove.

"Would you like a churro pancake, Francis?"

"That sounds wonderful, I think I would. Thank you." As Spain turned the stove back on to make another pancake, Romano leaved over to France.

"You told Antonio something-when he called you last night." He whispered angrily. "What did you say?"

"Relax, _mon amie._ I simply told him that you were stressed out and angry because people pay more attention to your brother than they do to you." France whispered back, leaning over and steadying himself on Romano's chair.

"Well, okay. As long as he doesn't know anything."

"Antonio? Are you kidding? If you looked up 'clueless' in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of him and your brother standing side-by-side."

"True."

After they finished breakfast, France went to go call Prussia, and Spain insisted Romano change.

"What? But why?" Romano grumped, plopping down on the bottom step.

"Well, you can't go to the zoo in your pajamas, Roma."

"But why? My pajamas are more comfortable than my clothes!"

"Roma..."

"Oh, all right!" Romano stomped angrily up the stairs, grumbling about the unfairness of life. France finally hung up the phone and walked over to Spain's side. Spain was still staring at the stairs, where Romano had tripped and fallen twice while going up them and complaining.

"Prussia says, and I quote 'Kesese, prepare the elephants to be ridden on' Should we tell him he'll get trampled if he tries to ride elephants?" France looked to Spain for an answer, but Spain never looked away from the stairs. Finally, France pulled his head so he was looking at him.

"You're worried about the boy, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, France. You said it was just stress but..." He turned back to the stairs and sighed. "He... almost seems like he's ill. I mean, sure, collapsing can be from stress, but... this is something else." Spain's eyes started brimming with tears. "I don't want something bad to happen to him, especially if I'm unable to help him. He's... I don't know what I would do without him, he's defined that past hundred or so years of my life. I'm not sure I could function without him."

France was shocked.

"But, you gave him the coin... on it you said that-"

"I know what it said." Spain interrupted, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "It wouldn't be fair for me to keep him cooped up in this house if he didn't want to be here. So I gave him a choice."

"Maybe you should tell him this, I'm sure he'd understand."

"N-no... he'd either call me a bastard or run away. Or both. Anyway, I want him to have that choice." France patted his back and smiled.

"You're a good boss, Antonio."

"You think so...?"

"I know so. Lovi's lucky to have you, even if he curses you out all the time." Spain smiled.

"Thanks..."

"Okay, I got dressed you bastard!" Romano yelled, walking to the stairs and tripping again. Spain sighed and laughed a little, trying to mask his worry.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything." France whispered. Spain answered him with a grateful smile, and went to go help Romano down the stairs.

* * *

 **End of Chapter 5**

* * *

 **(( Sorry, this one probably isn't as good as the others, I had an idea but I think I went off on a few tangents. Anyway, They'll be going to the zoo in the next chapter. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who left me a review. You guys are so nice and those reviews never cease to make me smile. Also-I wasn't trying to make Spain a crybaby or anything, but, just like Romano hides emotions from Spain, I figured Spain would hide emotions from Romano, too. We're just seeing the side of him Romano never sees. Naturally, he would be frustrated if he thought he couldn't help, and frustration can often reduce people to tears. Also-I apologize if it seems like I'm getting off topic. trust me, I know where I'm going with this. I have the end all planned out. See you in the next chapter!))**


	6. Popcorn and Surprises

"Roma! Roma! Look at the penguin!" Spain yelled, dragging Romano towards the penguin tank. Romano sighed. It was out of frustration, though he wasn't sure why. He had been frustrated ever since they got to the zoo and Spain decided to torture him by buying him a penguin hat that tied under the chin. It had made him feel like a baby, but it had a spot for his curl to poke out, and it was cozy, so he wore it untied. He still had it on his head when he wrenched his hand out of Spain's grasp and sat down next to the penguin tank. As Spain pushed his nose up against the glass, France walked over to Romano and handed him a bag of popcorn.

"What's this for?" He asked, taking the bag and popping a salty kernel into his mouth.

"Well, I remembered that you haven't had popcorn in awhile, and this might be your last chance. So I bought you a bag with Prussia's credit card while he was trying to moon the baboons." Romano snorted, remembering how security had to step in and keep Prussia's pants on him.

"Well, thanks. Hey, where _is_ Prussia, anyway? And won't he miss his card?"

"Not likely. He's having a staring contest with some exotic fish."

"But fish don't blink...?"

"Exactly." Romano snorted again and looked up. The penguin tank was indoors so they could control the temperature, but to make it look less industrial, they had decorated the room with plastic cave walls and floors and painted the door to look like the mouth of a cave. There were also plastic stalactites on the ceiling and stalagmites jutting up from the ground. Leaning against one of the stalagmites, he shoveled some more popcorn into his mouth and sighed.

"Do you think he knows anything?" Romano asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the Spaniard who was breathing heavily on the glass and getting weird looks from an older lady and her daughter.

"I'm sure he doesn't. We're talking about the same person who thought spoiling a small child would help them to grow up to be responsible and kind to others."

"Oh? Who was this?"

"Oh, no one you know. A different colony. Anyway, how's the popcorn?" France asked, suppressing a smile.

"Meh." Romano said, shrugging and shoveling more popcorn into his mouth. "Kinda salty, but pretty good."

"Just like you!" Prussia said, sauntering into the room. Romano shot him a glare and threw a handful of popcorn at him.

"Where have _you_ been?" France said, standing up with his hands on his hips. "You abandoned us and then took twice as long as normal to remember fish don't blink!"

"Okay, FIRST of all, I KNOW fish don't blink. SECOND of all, I just used that as excuse to go get this!" Prussia pulled a lion mask from out behind his back, and France face palmed. "See? I'm a lion now! Now I'm TWICE as awesome! Kesesese~!"

"You look twice as stupid." France said. Rolling his eyes, he went to go and try to pry Spain away from the penguins. "Spain, we should look at some other things, now."

"But the penguins~!"

"What is it with you and penguins?"

"They're so cool!" Spain insisted, standing on his toes, watching a penguin waddle around on the little island they had. "Plus we don't have anything like them is Spain! It's too warm!"

"You know what else you don't have in Spain?"

"What?"

"Romano. You should spend some time with the boy. You never know, one day something may happen and you may never see him again." France said, gesturing to him. Spain glanced at the penguins one last time and sighed.

"You're right. Thanks, France." France smiled and followed Spain back to where Romano was now sitting on Prussia's stomach, eating popcorn.

"Uhh, Lovi?" Spain said. "Why are you on Gilbert's stomach?"

"He told me I was salty like popcorn so I'm using him as a bench."

"Well, you can use him as a bench somewhere else, we're going to another animal now!" France said, pulling out the map. "Let's see, where to first? Giraffes or Hippos?"

"How about we throw Prussia to the lions and see how good a job that dumb mask of his does."

"Lovi, don't be mean."

* * *

Eventually, they decided on the cheetahs instead.

"What's so great about a dumb cheetah?" Romano grumbled, balling up his popcorn bag and putting it in a trash can decorated with cheetah spots. "They're just like giant cats." Spain sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, smiling at the stubborn Italian.

"Not _exactly,_ Lovi. Cheetahs are known for their unmatched speed."

"Oh yeah? Well it won't outrun me, I'm Italian. Everyone knows Italians are the fastest runners." Romano walked over to the thick glass wall that separated him and the cheetahs. "Hey Kitty! Race me! Right now! Let's go!" As if it understood him, the cheetah stood up, stretched a bit, and padded over to the glass wall.

"Yeaaah, let's _go_! Race me!" Romano yelled, running down the glass wall. The cheetah decided to follow him, running at a slow pace. Then, all at once, it picked up speed and flew past him.

"Ohhh no! You aren't getting past me!" Romano yelled after it, running faster. Spain, France and Prussia watched him run back and forth from a nearby bench, laughing quietly to themselves every time Romano tripped, seeming to get angrier.

"So, when were you planning on telling me the kid's dying?" Prussia asked, stealing some popcorn from France's bag. France shot him a look of disbelief and Spain's smile disappeared.

"Dying?"

"Of course!" France said, kicking Prussia's leg and smiling at Spain. "Dying... to see the polar bears! He's never seen one, you know."

"Are... are you sure, France?"

"Absolutely positive. Now I'll be right back, Prussia's going to buy me a soda." France said, grabbing a clump of Prussia's hair and dragging him off next to the concessions stand. "WHAT on EARTH do you think you're DOING?!"

"I'm asking why you two didn't tell me yet!" Prussia fired back, yanking out of France's grip. "I'm tired of you and Spain keeping secrets from me!"

"We aren't keeping secrets from you! Spain doesn't even know!" France hissed, throwing Prussia's credit card at his face. "Romano came to me and asked me to keep his secret from Antonio! And not just from Antonio, from basically everyone else! I couldn't tell you! I'm a man of my word! Do you know how much pressure I'm under right now?! He's DYING and I can't tell the people who care about him most!" France took a deep breath and looked at the now stone-silent Gilbert. "Just... you can't tell anyone. _Anyone_. Got it?"

"I promise. If it means that much to him, I'll keep quiet." Prussia said, uncharacteristically solemn as he held up his right hand and nodded. He had never really seen France just blow up like that, and he felt it wise to not tempt him any more.

"Good." France muttered, turning his attention back to Romano, still trying to outrun a cheetah, and Spain, watching him and clapping, shouting encouragements to the aggravated Italian man. "We need to keep Spain as clueless as possible."

"Wait, shouldn't we tell short salty and mad that I know his little secret?" Prussia asked, reverting back to his usual personality. France sighed and rolled his eyes.

"One, don't call him that to his face. And two, I'll tell him next time Antonio gets hopelessly distracted by something." He glanced back over to his Italian and Spanish friends and sighed. "I wonder if we can really pull this off..."

"We will." Prussia said, adopting a mischievous smirk. "I have _ways_ of getting what I need."

"Oh lord..." France muttered, grabbing Prussia's arm and leading him back to the cheetah enclosure.

* * *

 **(( Pwaahhh... Sorry this one is so short, I wanted to update before tomorrow. For all you American people, you know what tomorrow is. For all you non-American people, tomorrow is the Fourth of July, AKA American Independence Day. Happy 4th Everyone! Even if you aren't American, I hope you have an amazing day, and stay Awesome!** **(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ ))**


	7. Headache

"You two were gone awhile, what took so long?" Spain wondered out loud as France led Prussia back to the enclosure. Romano looked up from his spot on the ground, where he had fallen and decided not to get up.

"Oh, nothing. Prussia lost his credit card, so we looked for it. Then we found it lying next to the baboon enclosure, and then we decided to just come back." France said, sitting back down on the bench near the cheetahs. "Lovi? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That stupid Cheetah outran me though. Where does that leave me?!" Romano complained, pounding his fist on the glass wall. The cheetah looked over at him, and then, as if deciding he wasn't worth looking at, turned and sat down facing away from him. "And _now_ it's insulting me! Damn oversized cat!" Spain laughed a little to himself and Romano shot him a glare.

"Well, Lovi. We should probably go look at something else, then. How about the-OH MY GOSH LOOK AT THAT SEAL!" Spain shouted, rushing over to the next enclosure. Romano rolled his eyes, and then gestured for France to come over to him.

"Yes?"

"What were you and Prussia really doing? I'm not an idiot, I know you were talking about something." Romano said, glancing at Prussia, who was wandering over as well.

"Ah. Yes. You always were a smart one, Lovi. Well you see... he figured it out on his own... so..."

"He knows!?" Romano said, trying to keep his voice down to avoid attracting the Spaniard's attention. "But-"

"Relax. I know not to tell 'Tonio." Prussia said, standing next to France. "I don't know why you don't want him to know, but I guess that's not my business." Romano looked at France, and France met his gaze. The two stared at each other for a minute in silence, before Romano muttered to himself.

"Well. Who would have thought the monkey could learn?"

 _"Hey!"_ Prussia yelled, as France burst out laughing and Romano smiled at his own joke. Rolling his eyes, Prussia revived his 'devil may care' smile and pulled Romano to his feet.

"Alright, but seriously. I'm sure you have a reason, just like I'm sure it isn't my business. But you might wanna do a better job of hiding it. I mean, _I_ figured it out on my own. Antonio's smart. If _I_ could figure it out, it's only a matter of time before Antonio realizes what you're doing." Romano and France exchanged a look of disbelief. Prussia was right. If he could figure it out, it was only a matter of time before Spain noticed Romano's uncontrollable sweating, or his nervous tell every time the far future was mentioned, or the fact that his skin was slowly fading to a sickening grey tint. Romano suddenly felt sick. He put his hand up to his mouth and watched the ground warp and twist underneath his feet. _I was an idiot... I can't do this._ Romano thought as he staggered into France, who stumbled backwards and hit his back on a fake tree, dragging Antonio's attention back to his three friends. His eyes grew wide and he ran back over to where Romano was now sitting on the ground, cradling his stomach with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Francis! Gilbert! What happened to Lovi?" Spain asked, crouching down next to Romano and gently running his hand through his hair to calm him, being very careful to avoid his curl.

"I-I don't know...! We were just talking and then he..." France stuttered, pulling himself up from on top of the fake tree.

"I bet it was the popcorn." Prussia said, in an attempt to divert Spain's attention away from the obvious conclusion. "That popcorn we had was _really_ buttery, it's even making me feel a little sick. Romano's used to better food, his body's probably rejecting it." Spain looked at Prussia, and then back at Romano.

"You're probably right. Roma? Do you want something to drink to help settle your stomach?" Spain asked in his most soothing voice, rubbing his fingers in little circles on his back the way he did when Romano was little. Whenever he would overeat on churros or tomatoes, Romano always got a horrible stomachache, and Spain would rub his back to help him feel better. This, however, wasn't from overeating. Romano shook his head and muttered 'no'.

"Are you sure, Lovi? You look kind of sick..."

"I-it's just from... stress... It's happened... before." Romano choked out, feeling the pain slowly subsiding. "I'm fine now... can we just, forget this ever happened?"

" _Oooh_ no! I'm finding you a place to lie down and something to settle your stomach." Spain insisted, standing up. Romano sighed. There would be no convincing him otherwise, and he knew it.

But that didn't stop him from arguing.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the four of them were sitting on a bench out in front of the elephants, having a snack. Romano had wanted food, so Spain got him some honey roasted peanuts. But he'd also bought him a coke. Romano had insisted he didn't want it, but Spain had insisted he drink it, saying that coke syrup had properties that calmed upset stomachs. Unable to come up with a reason as to why he didn't need it without blowing his cover, Romano grudgingly accepted the sweet, fizzy drink and was slowly sipping it.

"So, do you feel and better now, Roma?" Spain asked, setting his popcorn bag down. "Yeah, you're right. This popcorn is a bit too buttered."

"I'm fine. Honestly." Romano muttered, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes, hoping his stabbing headache would go away before he had to get up again.

"That's good. So, where should we go next? Gilbert, what do you think?" Spain took a handful of popcorn and waited for Prussia to speak. When he didn't, Spain closed his bag and turned towards him.

"Pruss-" He stopped. There was just France, who had been on Prussia's other side, looking at him, mirroring the confused expression that had spread across his face.

"Oh my god." Romano said, turned and looking behind him. Spain turned the same direction and nearly burst out laughing.

"He's bareback riding an elephant."

"Should we get him down?" France asked, watching him raise his hands above his head in triumph and laugh.

"Nah, let's watch him fall off and get trampled." Romano replied with a smirk. "It'll be more fun."

* * *

In the end they got Prussia out of the enclosure, apologized to a nearby zookeeper and policewoman, and eventually decided to head home. When they finally got back to Spain's sickly-green minivan that he used mainly for transporting his tomato crop and groceries, Prussia had insisted on driving home. The immediate response to that had been, of course, a resounding 'not even if hell froze over'. France had been next to volunteer, but then changed his mind when Prussia started tugging on his ponytail, saying that he would be too big a distraction. Spain would have asked Romano, but he was too busy leaning against the car, rubbing his temples and muttering about white spots in his vision. So it was decided Spain would drive, with Romano in the front seat, and the 'bleach haired fools', as Romano commonly referred to them behind their backs, sitting in the backseat. The car ride home was completely silent, until Prussia decided to turn on the radio.

"Kesese~ This is my favorite song!" He remarked, sitting back in his seat as the man on the radio sang about being 'awesome'.

"Of _course_ it is." Romano muttered, leaning his head on the window and wincing every time the music pounded against his eardrums. "Oooof course it is." Spain frowned and shut the radio off, cutting off Prussia's protests with a stern look from the rear view mirror.

"Lovi, are you alright?" Spain finally asked, after ten minutes of complete silence, save for Romano's suddenly uneven breathing. "You sound like you're coming down with something serious... and you collapsed at the zoo... this doesn't seem like stress." Pulling the car over ot the side of the road, he shifted the gear into park and then put his hand on Romano's shoulder. Romano's shoulders tensed, but he made no effort to move his hand. This worried Spain even further. Romano never liked Spain touching him at all. _Ever_. Not even when he was so sick he emptied his stomach three times in half an hour. Even when he was racked with sweat and shaking like a leaf, he always found the strength to bat his hand away. Seeming to sense Spain's worry, France cleared his throat.

"Maybe he's got the flu?" He suggested, trying to put it as gently as possible. "He _was_ stuck in that huge thunderstorm last week."

"Maybe..." Spain muttered, rubbing Romano's shoulder a little bit before putting the car back into drive. "Maybe."

Needless to say, the rest of the drive home was in complete silence.

* * *

" _Fratello_! How was the zoo?" Feliciano asked the second they were in the door. Standing next to him was Germany, shuffling a handful of playing cards and intentionally avoiding Romano's gaze. On a normal day, this attempt to avoid a fight would just peeve Romano off even further. Today, he just sighed and made a mental note to kill him. Later. When he had the energy. He shrugged halfheartedly, answering Feli's question in the simplest way possible.

"Oh, you're back so soon though! Did something happen?" He asked, turning his head slightly askew. When he got no answer from his brother, he turned instead to France.

"Lovi had a tiny... _incident_. We felt he might feel better if we brought him home." France explained, trying to say as little as possible. Luckily, Feliciano seemed to understand that this wasn't a good topic, and instead opted for cheerful silence.

 _I wish they would stop this._ Romano thought as Spain escorted him into the living room, onto one of the parallel couches. _They're treating me like a child. I don't need this. I don't **want** this. I just need... all I need is...  
is...  
_ _I don't know anymore. I really don't. But whatever it is that I need, it certainly isn't being babied._

 _I need some time alone to sort my head out, get some sleep, have a meal. This is getting to be too much._

"So, what do you think about going to the aquarium tomorrow?" Spain asked, sitting down next to him. France and Prussia were sitting in the couch opposite them, and Germany and Feli were sitting at the counter that separated the living and dining rooms. "It's like a zoo, but for underwater animals."

"It's a lot of fun." France said, trying to fix his hair from the multiple Prussia attacks. "And the jellyfish are interesting to watch."  
 _I don't wanna see no damn jellyfish. I want to stay home and sleep.  
_ "Oh! And what about the art museum?" Feli piped up, bouncing in his chair a little. " _Fratello_ has always loved art, what about that?"  
 _I don't wanna go stare at paintings. I want to sleep.  
_ "Or maybe a restaurant tour? He seems to be just as much of a gourmet as Feli." Germany added, shuffling the cards.  
 _No. No, you can't make me leave the house. I need to think.  
_ "The parks are in bloom this time of year."  
 _Please! Please, just stop.  
_ "Oh! You've always loved that one pond, nii-chan!"  
 _ **Please**. Don't make me do this._

"And the theatre has some interesting movies right now!"  
"What about that one place you liked so much?"  
"And you loved that place in the city, _fratello_!"  
"And the-"  
"What about the-"  
"Or we could-"  
"And"  
"And"  
"And"

As everyone else in the room talked, Romano shut his eyes and pursed his lips, feeling that single word bounce around in his head, as if taunting him.

And  
And  
And  
And

"Lovi? Are you alright?" Spain asked, putting his hand on his shoulder again.

" _Stop it._ " Romano mumbled, squeezing his eyes even tighter.

"What was that, Lovi?" Spain asked. "I didn't quite catch it." Romano rocketed out of his chair, causing his head to spin and tip. But he didn't care. Not anymore. He had to say something.

" _ **Stop it!**_ Stop talking about me like I'm not even here! Stop treating me like a child! Stop getting involved with my life! Just, **_stop!_** "

"Lovi, we're only trying to help..." Spain said, sounding a little worried.

"Well, you aren't! You're not helping! You're annoying me and putting pressure on me! I can't keep acting normal all the time, okay?! Do you know how hard it is?! How _hard_ it is to act normal when you're **_dying_**?!" The last word came out as a half shriek and half choke. Complete silence filled the room.

 _Did I just-..._

 _Did I just say that?!_

"L-Lovi..." Spain said, his eyes filled with horror. "What did you just say...?"

"Fratello..." Feliciano whispered, his sad, amber eyes now open and brimming with tears. Germany had dropped his deck of cards and was now staring at Romano with a look of disbelief. Even France and Prussia looked shocked.

"I-... I-..." Romano struggled to find words.

"Lovi... what's happening?" Spain asked, his voice trembling. "Dying...? Why are you... how long has this been happening?" He stood and started walking towards Romano. "Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes filled with regret, and Romano felt his heart race in his chest out of fear. "I could have helped you... We _all_ could have helped you... why didn't you trust us?"

Romano's heart rate was raising with every step Spain took towards him. His brother looked ready to launch into tears. His entire plan had fallen apart right in front of his eyes. As Spain opened his mouth to talk again, a stabbing pain filled his head. He pitched forward slightly, stopping Spain in his tracks and earning a gasp from his brother.

"Lovi... I-" Spain started. But it was futile. Romano had already started running.

* * *

 _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I'm such an idiot!_ Romano scolded himself, sprinting towards the front door. Stopping only to grab his jacket from where he left it, he ran as fast as he could. Three feet from the door, he felt someone grab his arm left arm and pull. Hard. Turning on his heel, ready to curse whoever it was out, he found himself face-to-face with Spain. But his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor was gone. His eyes were begging for an answer he wouldn't get, his cheeks were streaked with tears, and his mouth was twisted into a pained grimace.

"Lovino... don't do this..." he choked out, loosening his grip. "Please... let us help you... if anything were to happen to you, I-" He was cut off my his own tears. As a small choking sound escaped his throat, Romano inched towards the door. It hurt him to leave, especially now, but he knew he couldn't stay. Just as he touched the door handle, Feliciano flew into the room. Though his eyes were also filled with tears, he looked uncharacteristically angry.

"Lovino Vargas! Don't you _dare_ touch that doorknob!" He said as a single stray tear escaped his eye. Romano turned to the door. Then back to the two people in the room. Feliciano, who had always accepted him for who he was. Who never cared if he made a mistake. Who always wanted him to be happy. His brother. His _family_. And the man standing next to him, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Antonio Fernández Carriedo. His cheerful caretaker. The one who had put his own feelings and needs aside and put his well-being first. Did he really have the strength to leave them behind? What would happen if he left? What would happen if he stayed?

Looking between the two once more, he knew what his answer had to be.

"I'm sorry. I can't." He muttered. Then, in one swift motion, he threw the door open and ran as fast as he could.

* * *

 **(( To be Continued...))**


	8. Search Party

"How could you know about this and not tell me?!" Spain wailed, attempting to stifle his tears. "I thought we were friends!" France was patting his shoulder, trying to keep him from crying himself dry.

"I'm so sorry, Antonio. But he made me promise. I'm a man of my word, I couldn't just break a promise." Leaving the Spanish man to calm down, he turned to Feliciano and Germany. Feli had lost all control and was currently sitting in Germany's lap, bawling into his shirt. Germany was petting his hair, attempting to calm him down by whispering encouraging things in wonky Italian. Germany was never the best at speaking in Italian, but he knew that Feli knew it was the thought that counted, and always found it calming when Ludwig spoke to him in his own language.

"Feliciano. Do you know of anywhere that your brother likes to go when he wants to be alone?" France asked in his silkiest voice, trying to keep the gentle Italian from crying even more. Feli sniffed and lifted his face out of Germany's shirt, shaking his head.

"No. Usually when he wants to be alone, he locks himself in the bathroom, the closet, or sits up a tree in the back yard. But he ran, so I have no idea..." He choked out, his voice wavering. Germany went back to petting his hair in attempt to calm the small Italian down, but that only succeeded in making him cling to him even more and start crying again. Deciding to give them some privacy, France wandered out of the living room, past Prussia, who was staring solemnly at the window, and out into the entrance hall. He glanced up the stairs, to where Romano's door still sat ajar after having been flung open that morning.

 _Everything had been so calm this morning._ He thought, sitting down on the bottom step and listening to the sound of Feli's sobs and Spain trying to calm himself down. _Can it really have only been a day or two since he came to me?_ As he glanced around the room, he caught sight of Spain's wall of portraits, and briefly remembered the coin Spain had given to Romano on his last birthday. Spain had put Romano's feelings ahead of his own, but Romano had stayed. Spain had thought he was safe. And then this happened. Kicking at a corner of the threadbare rug resting at the bottom of the stairs, France sighed.

 _Damn it, Romano. Where did you go?_ _Can't you see how much everyone cares about you?_

* * *

Romano had no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he was running through the streets of Spain, tear streaming down his face. He knew that his head was spinning, his vision failing, his breathing was becoming ragged, and that there was a good chance he would never come back. That he would never see his family again. Never see Antonio again. That thought made him falter, but only for a second. Fear and shame kept him running away from the house where he had spent most of his life. Unsure of where he was heading, he stopped in the middle of a marketplace. Panting and wiping tears off of his cheeks, he looked around. No one seemed to have noticed him. Reassured by that small fact, he looked down the street. There. There was a park that opened up into the forest. _Perfect._ He thought, running towards it. _I can just disappear into the woods._ As he approached the woods, he caught a glance of someone that caused him to freeze.

 _Could it be-?  
No, no, that's impossible.  
But he was right there..._

He spun around in circles, trying to find the person and unintentionally making himself dizzy.

 _I thought I just saw Grandpa Rome..._

* * *

"Okay, everyone. Regroup around me!" A now determined-sounding Spain yelled, climbing up on the coffee table to attract more attention. Prussia pulled himself away from the window, France wandered into the living room, still looking at Romano's door, and Germany gently pulled Feliciano off of him and they both moved closer.

"Okay. We all here?"  
"Well, everyone except-"  
"Gilbert, don't even say it."  
"Oui, we're all here, Antonio."  
"Okay." Spain sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. Now that he knew what was happening, he was unsure. He didn't know if he could do anything about it. But he knew he had to set an example for poor Feli. He had to be strong, for both of them.  
"Okay." He repeated, trying to organize his thoughts. "So, it has become clear that sitting here will solve nothing. So I've come to a conclusion. We're just going to have to go find him and bring him back." Spain said, sounding much more confident than he felt. "I'm sure he couldn't have gotten far. After all, he's just one person traveling on foot." Feliciano raised his hand, and Spain glanced at him.  
"You don't have to raise your hand, you can just talk, Feli."  
"Oh. Um, okay." He shifted in his seat and looked down at his shoes. "It's just that... something like this happened once before, and we found him all the way at miss Hungary's house... he can cover a lot of ground when he wants to." Spain felt his heart drop into his stomach. But, remembering to be strong, smiled and said "Well then, let's just hope he doesn't want to." Feli gave him a half-hearted smile, and Spain returned it.  
"Now, I know the odds are currently five against one, but does anyone think they know anyone that might be able to help? The bigger the numbers the better." He glanced around to see everyone racking their brains. Trying to think of someone who could help. The sight of this made Spain smile a little.  
 _Oh, Lovi._ He thought, climbing down from the coffee table, _If only you could see how much we all care about you..._

"Hey Spain?" Feli said, waving his hand in the air again. "Doitsu and I were talking and, well, do you think Japan might be able to help? He's never met my fratello, but he's technically his ally. And allies stick together. Plus he's real reliable and very smart!"  
"Good thinking." Spain replied, pleased at the suggestion. "And while you're at it, see if he can bring anyone with him." Then, leaving Germany and Italy to call their friend, he turned to France and Prussia. "Francis. Gilbert. _Please_ tell me you have some ideas..."  
"Oui, although I don't know if it would work."  
"What'cha got?"  
"Well, " France replied, sighing. "I was thinking I could get America to help. Since he likes to think of himself as the Hero, I think he'd probably want to help out with this."  
"That sounds reasonable. What's the problem?"  
"England. If he heard America was doing something on my request, he'd want to come and make sure I don't 'do anything'. And we all know how afraid of him poor Feli is."  
"That's true." Spain sighed. "There would be no way to get America without England. We could tell him not to say anything to England, but we all know he can't keep a secret. I wonder, maybe if we-"

"Just call America."

Spain and France both turned to see Feli standing there with a look of determination on his face. He'd even opened his eyes. "Call him and have him bring England."  
"But Feliciano..." France said "I thought you were terrified of England! You always run away from him, and you can't even hear his name without frowning."  
"My brother matters more to me than my own fears. Call America." Feli insisted, curling his hands into fists at his sides. France nodded and walked into the hall to place the call, and Spain smiled.  
"You're very brave and kind, you know that, Feli?" He said, placing his hand on the Italian's shoulder. "Roma's lucky to have you as a brother." At the mention of Romano, Feli smiled and a single tear fell down his cheek.  
"Will we be able to find him, Spain?"  
"We can only hope, Feli. We can only hope."

* * *

"So I'd like to thank you all for coming." Spain said, standing on the coffee table again. "And I'd like to thank everyone who brought someone, you've broadened the search, and for that I am grateful." His eyes scanned around the room. On the left stood Germany and Feli, next to Japan, who had brought Greece with him. America stood in front of him, standing between England and France, who were giving each other nasty looks. And on his right stood Prussia, with Austria and Hungary standing behind him. Off further to the side lingered Belgium and Netherlands, whom Spain had called personally. Spain smiled at the sheer amount of people who had shown up.

"Hey, dude?" America said, looking confused. "Remind me why we're here again? I mean, I know Romano ran off, but won't he just come back home eventually?" Most of the new people in the room looked just as confused as him. Sighing, Spain braced himself for the explanation he didn't want to have to give.

"Well, yes and no. You see, it's true that Roma has run away. And that under normal circumstances, he would return home. But these aren't normal circumstances." He paused, thinking of the best way to explain the most important part of the story.

"Has something bad happened to him? Did someone pick on him? Or kidnap him?" Hungary asked, whipping out her frying pan. "Because if they did, I know someone who's going home with a concussion today."

"Yes. No. No." Spain sighed, answering her questions. "Something has happened to him, but it isn't because of anyone. From what I understand from what Francis told me, it has to do with the recent unification of Ita-chan and Roma's halves of their country." A murmur passed around the room as everyone instantly tried to figure out what could be happening. Feli simply looked up at Spain with horror in his eyes. As the muttering in the room died down, he stepped closer to the coffee table Spain was standing on.

"Does that mean it's... my fault? It's my fault my fratello's dying? He's dying because we're one country now and somehow I was the Italy chosen to represent it? Is that it?" He asked, tears brimming his amber eyes and his voice wavering with each word. The reaction was immediate. Everyone crying out various things about the horror of it all, and that surely it couldn't be Feli's fault. Spain knelt down on the table and smiled at Feli.

"Of course it isn't your fault. You can't control this. No one can. Don't cry Feliciano, please. Be strong."  
"I-... I don't know if I can, Spain... I'm not strong like everyone else in this room. Like fratello. He's so confident about everything he does... so sure of himself. I wish I could be more like him." Feli sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Ruffling his hair and giving him one more encouraging look, Spain stood back up on the table and tried to quiet everyone down. It took him ten minutes, but eventually he was able to quiet the room.

"I know that this may come as a shock to most of you. I know I was definitely shocked when I found out. But this is the time for action. We need to find him before anything can happen to him. If possible, I want to try and save him. And if not..." Spain trailed off, not wanting to continue. "If not... then... I want him to be home when it happens. Safe and warm and surrounded by the love of his friends and family. He deserves that much." He stopped, climbing down from the table and trying to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat. Belgium walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright everyone!" She yelled, deciding to speak for Spain. "Get ready to leave! Bring anything that might be helpful! And remember, we can't let him know we're looking for him!" As the various nations scrambled to get their coats and such together, Spain sat down on the table and sighed running his hand through his hair. Belgium gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then went to go get her and her brother's coats. Spain sighed and looked up. The numbers were on his side, but deep inside he had a horrible feeling that they wouldn't make it. That he would be left, clutching Romano's lifeless body, feeling his happiness drain out of him. Besides, Romano had run away. Wouldn't that mean that he wanted to be alone? And what more did Spain want for him, than to be happy? If that was true, then going to find him would be the wrong thing to do. The selfish thing, even. Thinking he'd made a mistake, Spain stood up to tell everyone he'd changed his mind. That's when he heard Feliciano. He was sitting at the kitchen table, with a fork and spoon in hand.

"This is Feliciano the fork." He said, using the utensils as a child might use hand puppets or dolls. "Many people take one look at him and think, 'he's so important, what would we do without him?' They think that because he's the most commonly used utensil at dinner tables, that he's the most important. But what they don't know is that there are plenty of things that he isn't capable of doing." He then set down the fork and picked up the spoon. It was one of the oldest spoons that Spain still had in the house, and it was covered in scratches. He had been planning to throw it out soon.  
"This is Lovino the spoon. He's been scarred and broken from people using him over the years, yet he can still do his job. He's a very overlooked utensil. Most people don't give spoons a second thought. But Lovino the spoon is very, very important. Without him, the entire kitchen would be thrown into chaos. There's just so many things that he can do that no other utensil can. If only he could see it for himself..." Feliciano set the spoon back down on the table, sighing. "If only he could see it for himself."

Spain stood watching as Feli sighed and set the utensils back in the drawer. _That's right._ He thought, turning and seeing Belgium and her brother getting their coats on, as Prussia and Hungary worked together to scan a map for any possible places Romano could have run to. _So many people care about him... which is why we need to find him! To make sure he knows that!_

"Alright, Everyone, let's go!" Spain yelled, opening the front door and feeling more confident than he could ever remember feeling in his life.

 _We're coming, Roma. We're coming. And this time I'm not letting go._

* * *

 **(( I hope you've been enjoying the story so far, and I'd like to thank all 35 of you who have followed the story. I hope you enjoyed what I've made so far, and continue to enjoy it as time goes on. At the moment I'm estimating at least three more chapters, though it will probably be more. I hope you stick around until the very end. I feel so blessed that this many people enjoy my story, and I want to tell you that I wouldn't be writing without you. See you in the next update! ))**


	9. Save a Life

"Excuse me ma'am, have you seen a boy about this tall, brown hair, one large curl jutting out from the side of his head?" Spain asked for the millionth time that day. He'd been asking around all day, and no matter who he asked, he always received the same reply.

"I don't believe I've seen anyone who looked like that." The lady replied, going back to setting her produce up on her street vendor table. Spain felt his shoulders sag. At this rate, they would never find him! He was about to turn and leave when the woman spoke again.

"But, uh, try asking Dad. He's always watching he streets." She said, pointing to an old man sitting in a wooden chair.

"Ah! Muchísimas gracias! Thank you ever so much!" Spain cried, running over. As he got closer, the old man turned his head towards him, as if he knew that he wanted to talk to him.

"Excuse me, señor, have you seen a boy about this tall, brown hair, one large curl jutting out from the side of his head? Your daughter suggested you may have seen him." Spain said, hoping for an answer. The old man looked at him for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the streets.

"I believe I did."

"Oh! W-well, can you tell me where he went? His life is in danger and I need to find him as quickly as possible!" Spain cried, flapping his arms and then resorting to jogging in place to keep his excitement in. The old man turned to him again, and Spain stopped jogging. Then he turned back to the street and pointed at a spot in the middle of the road.

"I remember him appearing as my daughter was talking to an odd man about something. He ran up to there in the market place, tears dripping down his face, looking around for something. Then he looked that way towards the forest. He started running that way, but stopped and started looking around, looking like he saw someone or something. Then he shook his head and ran off into the woods."

"Muchos gracias, señor! You may have just helped save a life!" Spain exclaimed, starting to run towards the woods. Suddenly, though, he stopped and wandered back over to the old man.

"You said your daughter was talking to an 'odd man'?"  
"That I did."  
"What did he look like...?"  
"Now that, I don't remember. You'll have to ask Julie about that."  
"Julie?"  
"My daughter."  
"Ah, I see."

Spain walked back over to the old man's daughter, trying to figure out who it could have been. Somehow, he felt like this had something to do with Romano.

"Excuse me, miss?" Spain asked as the woman turned to face him. "Your grandfather said that you were talking to an odd man earlier today, what did he look like?"

"Oh, let's see..." She sighed, racking her brain for a description. "He was relatively tall... with brown hair, a little stubble... oh, and he had the two oddest curls sticking out from his hair. Here and here." She pointed with her finger and sighed. "Honestly, he was so oddly cheerful for this time of day."

"I see. Well, thank you ma'am. That helps very much." Spain said, thanking her before running off towards the woods again. He had been right, this did have something to do with Romano. There was only one man who fit that description.

Rome.

* * *

"Dammit... where am I...?" Romano muttered, turning in circles in the small woodland clearing. He had been trying to follow a sound he'd heard, but had quickly lost it and then lost his way. "I didn't mean to get lost... damn it all to hell!" He yelled, kicking a large rock and hurting his foot. Hopping for a few inches, rubbing his foot and whispering curses he'd heard England use, he sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. He then proceeded to make a sound like a deflating balloon and stomp on a patch of dirt until the airborne particles that had clung to his pants spread all the way up to his knee. Satisfied by this small act of destruction, he started walking again, ripping branches off of trees and breaking them into small pieces to help soothe his anger. Once he reached the edge of a river, he stopped and looked around. The woods encompassed him to his left, the stream continued on into seemingly oblivion to his right. Straight ahead was a rabbit munching on some clover, and directly behind him was-

"Feliciano?!" Romano spat out before he could stop himself. His brother looked up from the fallen tree he was examining, and his eyes widened.

"Fratello..." Feli took a step forward, and Romano instinctively took a step back. "Please, don't run from us. We're only trying to help you..."

"Us? Who's us?"

"Me, and Antonio, Doitsu, Japan, Greece, America, England, France, Hungary, Prussia, Austria, Belgium, and even Netherlands. They all came to look for you. We don't want anything to happen to you. We _miss_ you, Fratello. Please... come back home."

"I-I can't..." Romano stammered, backing up again as Feli attempted to grab his wrist. "I just can't Feli!"

"But why not? Can't you see how much we all care about you?" As he spoke, Feliciano's voice began to waver and his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Feliciano, I... I can't explain it. I just... can't, okay? I just-" Romano was cut off by a blinding pain stabbing into his head. He put his hands up to shield his eyes and groaned, taking a step to the side.

"Fratello, look out! The water is-!"But it was too late. Romano slipped off of the river bank and fell into the water. As he began to sink to the bottom, he opened his eyes and looked around. Briefly, it hit him that he was unable to breathe. As he felt his back touch the bottom, he relaxed and let his body lie across the wet sand. As he lay there watching little bubbles of air escape from his lungs, he marveled at how quiet it was underneath the water. So very peaceful. Instantly he felt all his strength leave his body, and his eyes slipped shut. Somewhere above him, something hit the surface of the water. He was too weak to open his eyes to see what it was. _Probably an animal or a tree branch,_ he thought, _nothing too unusual._ Suddenly, a pair of arms slipped around his waist and started yanking him off of the sand. Gathering all of his remaining strength, he forced his eyes open just in time to watch as he was surfaced and pushed onto the bank. Then, a very wet Spain climbed out of the river after him. He opened his mouth to complain. To ask why he'd done that. To say something. _Anything_. But all that came out was a strangled choking sound. He realized that he had swallowed quite a bit of water. Panicking, he grabbed Spain's arm and gave him a pleading look. Spain started running a hand through his hair to calm him down, but the worried look on his face only made it worse. As Romano tried again to talk, his vision started fading. Spain's lips were moving, but he couldn't hear him. He repeated himself again and again, but Romano heard nothing. Eventually, he was able to make out what he was saying.

"Please, Just hold on, Roma. Just hold on."

Romano felt himself relax, and his vision faded to black.

* * *

 **((The end. No, I'm joking. There'll be more. Trust me.))**


	10. Family Reunion

"Open your eyes, Italy Romano."

The voice was loud, commanding, and... familiar. Romano slowly forced his eyes open, wincing at the bright light. He moved an arm to shield his eyes from the pain, surprised at the fact that he could move at all. Confused, he looked up towards the voice that had addressed him. A tall man stood over him, staring down. The man had unruly brown hair and wore what looked to be an ancient gladiator's outfit. Romano recognized him immediately.

"Grandpa Rome?!" The tall man smiled at the Italian and extended his hand in order to help him stand. Romano took it gratefully and stood up with a small groan.

"I come all the way to earth to visit my grandsons, and what do I find? One of them is letting himself die! Unbelievable."

"L-letting myself-?!"

"I know you're probably confused, Lovino. Let me explain, alright?"

"... Where are we?" Romano asked, momentarily ignoring his grandfather's question in favor of looking around. "Am I... dead?"

"Well, yes and no. This is where Grandpa lives. Here, you must be confused. Come with me and let me explain this all, okay?" Rome replied, walking off.

"Well, okay..." Romano replied. He followed close behind, stopping only for a second to look back at where he had laid only a few seconds ago.

* * *

"He's... gone..." Spain said, shakily picking up one of Romano's now cold hands. "He's gone, and I never even told him... how much he meant to me..." He pulled Romano's hand close to his heart and inhaled deeply. "So... cold..." Feliciano was crying and shaking his brother's other arm, trying desperately to awake him from his eternal sleep.

"Fratello! _Fratello!_ You can't do this to me! Please! Wake up! ... P-please... Fratello..." He choked on a sob and wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "Please... I never wanted... any of this... bring him back... I want him... back..." Germany, who had just run into the clearing as Spain dragged Romano out of the water, sat down next to Feli and patted his back to try and soothe him. Feli just sobbed louder and buried his face in his chest.

"There, there Italy. It's okay. He's safe now. Nice and safe."

"But he's all alone up there! A-and... I'll m-miss him...!"

"He won't be alone, Feliciano. Your Grandfather will take good care of him, ja?"

"B-but..." Feli began, but eventually gave in to his emotions and sobbed harder. As Feli cried and Spain tried his hardest to keep himself together, the rest of the search party showed up and took the whole scene in.

"Oh my god..." America muttered, glancing between the four nations at the river bank. "This is horrible."

"Agreed." England quietly responded. "Such a shame we couldn't have gotten here sooner."

"Man, this sucks! This isn't fair!"

"I don't remember you having any relations with the Italy brothers."

"Well, I don't, not really, but I don't have to have known him to be sad that he's flipping _dead_ , Iggy!"

"I was just clearing things up, Alfred. We're all grieving here. I wasn't doubting your compassion for your fellow nations."

"Well, good." America grumbled, crossing his arms and struggling to keep himself together. "Cuz I feel just as bad about this as you do."

"I know, Alfred. I know." England responded, his voice getting gentler. "I'm well aware of the fact that you feel bad. Even as a child you had unusual amounts of compassion for other living things." England put a hand on America's shoulder as he sighed. On the other side of the clearing, Hungary had fallen to her knees.

"He was so young!" She yelled, her hands on her chest, tears rolling down her face. "This isn't fair! He was so young!" Austria patted her back, attempting to calm her down. To the left, Japan and Greece grieved silently. France, Prussia, Belgium and Netherlands chose to stand by Spain and help to comfort him.

"It will be alright, Antonio." France said, patting Spain's back.

"I just hope... he passed away peacefully." Spain muttered, still gripping Romano's hand like a vice.

* * *

"What the heck Grandpa?" Romano muttered and he followed close behind the older man. "Where the heck even _is_ your house? We've been walking for almost ten minutes! And everything here is white! White, white, white! There's no way to even tell where we are! Are we lost? We _better_ not be fucking lost!"

"Patience, my dear boy." Rome replied, smiling at him over his shoulder. "We're nearly there. And then you and I can talk some."

"It's about damn time, Grandpa. Where the hell even are we right now? You never answered me!"

"Enough with the swearing, Lovino. I'll explain this once we get to the house."

"Do you even _have_ a house? Or is it just like, a little rock hut or something?"

"My house is very real, Lovino. Ah, here we go! You can see it from here!"

"It's about time, Grandpa! Holy sh-" Romano stopped in his tracks, staring at the building sitting in the distance. It was quite literally the tallest building he'd ever seen in his life. It looked like one of the grand palaces from the renaissance days.

"Grandpa... how the hell-?!"

"Once again, I'll explain once we get inside. Follow me Lovi!"

"Hey! Wait up!" He yelled as his grandfather suddenly started sprinting towards the large house. "No fair! I'm short!"

Ten minutes later they arrived at the gates of the house. Rome smiling, and Romano huffing and puffing. He tried to say something, but was too out of breath from the sudden mile-long sprint. Without waiting to see if Romano would follow, Rome pushed open the large front gate and walked into the courtyard. Finally catching his breath, Romano stumbled in after him, jumping slightly when the gates swung shut on their own accord. Rome walked all the way to the front door before stopping to wait for his grandson. Slowly, still huffing a bit, Romano advanced on the door of the house. As we walked, he looked around and marveled at the courtyard. While everything else in the strange land seemed to be flat and made of white clouds, this courtyard looked like something you could have found in the lushest areas of the earth. Trees lined the pathway, bountiful in all sorts of fruits and nuts; everything from apples to chestnuts. Along the ground sat a row of blackberry bushes, each fruit just as perfect as the last. Off to the side sat a large ornate fountain made of shining silver, and next to that was a gorgeous wood bench. Each walkway and addition to the yard was framed by a thick line of all sorts of flowers; everything from roses to sunflowers.

 _This must be what they mean when they say 'paradise'._ Romano thought, trying to take in everything he was seeing. _I can see why people would want to be here._ As he reached the front door, the smile on his grandfather's face widened.

"This," he said, opening the door. "is where Grandpa lives." He opened the door with a flourishing motion, and ushered Romano inside. the inside looked like something you would see in a movie. Red carpet covering the floor as far as the eye could see, long, sweeping staircases leading up to many upper floors, a large chandelier dangling from the center of the room. Romano opened his mouth to ask a question, but the words wouldn't leave the tip of his tongue.

"How...?" He managed, still unsure of what he was seeing. "When...?"

"Grandpa will explain. But first, let's go to the kitchen and get you a snack, okay?"

"You still eat?" Romano finally choked out, turning to his grandfather. "But you're dead. And so am I."

"I told you, Lovi. Yes and no. I'll explain in the kitchen, I promise. Alright? Be patient with your old man."

 _Funny how he keeps saying that, yet all it does is make me more impatient._ Romano thought, sighing and following the Roman man once again. He was lead into a large kitchen, fully furnished and complete with several tables used for preparing food. Standing at one of them, slicing a potato, was a tall man with long, blonde hair and slightly angry-looking blue eyes. He had his sleeves rolled up and was wearing a dark blue apron so as not to get food debris on himself.

"Grandpa... is that-?"

" _Salve_ , Germania!" Rome greeted the former nation, holding his hand up in a welcoming fashion.

"I told you to stop with the Latin already, Rome." Germania responded without looking up from his task. "That language has been dead for thousands of years, it's time to let it go."

"But that's no fun... Anyway! Meet my oldest grandson, Italy Romano!" Rome insisted, gently pushing Romano forward, encouraging him to speak.

"Ah... hi." Was all Romano could choke out. "Wh-what's up...?" Germania finally set the knife down and looked at Romano. He inspected everything from his shoes, all the way to the curl jutting out from his head. He lingered on his face for a second, and then nodded slightly and went back to his cooking.

"Most definitely a Vargas. Nice to meet you."

"Ah... hi." Romano replied again, suddenly oddly conscious of his curl. Sure, his grandfather had a few, but his was so much bigger comparatively. And Germania didn't have any. He felt slightly out of place in that kitchen.

"So, how'd you get here, then?"

"Oh... well... it's a long story."

"We have all the time in the world." Germania insisted, gesturing to an empty chair and handing Romano a slice of potato. Finding himself slightly intimidated by Germania, he bit his tongue and prevented himself from insisting he hated potatoes. Instead, he took the slice and nibbled at it halfheartedly as he sat down in the chair.

"Well..."

* * *

"...and then Grandpa found me, and we got here, and that's about it." Romano finally finished, leaning his arm on the dining room table. While he had been verbally documenting the contents of the past few days, Germania and Rome had made a dinner of sorts. It mainly consisted of things that could be made out of potatoes and pasta, though Romano was past the point of caring. He realized that he'd really needed a chance to unload all of his stress, and found that once he'd started talking, he couldn't stop. As he watched for the reactions on the two older nation's faces, he picked slightly at the potato chunks with spices that stared up at him from his plate.

"Now that I think about it, this style of cooking seems relatively new. I would have thought you would make things from your time."

"We try to adapt at least a little to the changing times." Germania explained. "Food is one of the easiest things to experiment with, so really we have no excuse not to."

"That's not to say that I don't still enjoy a few things from my golden years!" Rome insisted, smiling and pointing his fork at Romano. "I think you might like some of the things I had." Romano had to struggle to keep the grimace off of his face. He'd read about some of the things the Romans ate, and he knew he'd never be able to choke down a raw egg, or any of his grandfather's Garum. Fish left in a jar for weeks on end sounded like something you would torture people with. Luckily, Germania seemed to be able to read his thoughts.

"Stop it Rome. You're scaring him."

"What? How?"

"You're always bragging about how you raised your grandsons to be little gourmets, does anyone eat rotten jar fish anymore?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then stop trying to _poison_ him."

"But I'm not! Oh, alright... Instead, let me tell you about this place, Lovi!" Rome smiled and gestured around him. Germania just sighed.

"Yeah, Grandpa. An explanation would be great, _finally_." Romano said, eating another chunk of potato. As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to like the taste quite a bit. His grandfather sighed a little as he shifted in his chair, attempting to adopt a more upright position.

"This place was created as a sort of in-between area, dividing heaven and earth. Those who still have an important purpose on earth, but have reached the end of their lifespan are sent here. So far, no mortal has ever been sent here. Mainly because their impacts on the world only last so long."

"So... are you and Germania the only people here...?" Romano asked, suddenly interested.

"Oh, no. We're just the only two who live in this general area. Ancients such as Mesopotamia, Babylon, and others live here as well."

"Okay... so... we _are_ dead."

"Not exactly, Lovino. You see, because we still have important purposes on earth, this in-between, lets just call it that for quick reference, serves as a sort of doorway. If we get permission, we can pass from this world to earth, although getting permission isn't too hard."

"Wait... it's not? But you barely ever came to visit _me_ , and every time you visited Feliciano you always treated it as a special occasion."

"Of course it is! Who would pass up an opportunity to visit their favorite grandson?" Germania coughed loudly, trying to signal to Rome that he'd made a mistake, but it was too late. Romano's eye twitched and he felt his face heat up.

"Favorite...- of course. Of _fucking_ course. I always _knew_ you liked him better, and there's my proof! Favorite fucking grandson... let me tell you something!" Romano yelled, standing up and slamming his hand down on the table. "I always used to think to myself 'no matter what goes wrong in my life, I'll always have two things! My twin brother, who looks up to and adores me, and my loving grandfather, who I'm sure could have taken me with him if he could.' Well guess _what_?! Today, I finally see the truth! You _forgot_ about me!"

"Now, Lovi. let's not-"

"No! No! We're doing this! We are doing this!" Romano yelled, feeling tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "You _forgot_ about me in my time of need! You _abandoned_ me, even! Took Feli and disappeared! I was forced to grow up on my own, with no one to help me! Do you even know what that's _like_?! And when I was taken into captivity and tossed to the first person who wanted me, you did _nothing_! Just sat by and let it happen!" By this point, the tears had broken free from his eyes and were trickling down his cheeks, landing with soft _plip_ sounds on the wood floor. "You never even cared about me enough to visit and see if I was okay! For all you know, Spagna could have been some horrible dictator-type person who was running me ragged with slave labor!" Rome opened his mouth to protest, but Romano shook his head.

"No! I don't want to hear it! I'm tired of this! I have feelings too, you know!" With one final gust of rage, Romano pushed his chair over and stomped out of the room, making a sound like a deflating balloon. Rome looked at Germania with a stunned expression on his face.

"You had that coming." Was Germania's simple reply. "This is your fault."

"Did it really seem that way...?" Rome muttered, leaning back in his chair and sighing.

"'Seem'? It _was_ that way. You forgot about one of your own grandsons. You had that explosion coming."

"But I never forgot him! I knew he would be fine on his own! He's always been the stronger of my two grandsons, and-"

"It's not me you should be saying this to, Rome." Germania said, standing up and taking his plate into the kitchen. "And you know it." Rome sighed as he watched his solemn friend make his way out of the room.

"Yeah... I know..." He muttered, before sighing again and glancing at the stairs.

"I know."

* * *

 **(( A/N: Thank you all so much for 43 story followers! You guys are the best! I'm sorry this is taking me so long to write, but to make up for it, have a relatively long-ish chapter. Also, thank you all so much for all the positive reviews and constructive criticism I'm getting! Constructive criticism really helps me as a writer, so thank you all so, so much!))**


	11. Pacify

"Go away Grandpa! You didn't care before, don't pretend to care now!" Romano yelled leaning on the door to the bathroom with all of his weight. Rome sighed and stopped trying to force the door open. He'd tried to talk to him, but Romano had ducked into the bathroom and started shouting abuse at him.

"Just go watch over Feli or something! God knows you never do anything else!"

"That's not true, Romano."

"Yes it is! It's true, you just don't want to admit it! I can't believe I ever looked up to you! Just... Just- _fuck off Grandpa!_ "

"Romano... let me explain myself."

"There's nothing to explain you ass! Leave me alone!" The sound of a deadbolt being secured told Rome that he wasn't getting into that bathroom. Sighing, he slid to the floor and sat on the carpet. Running his hand through his hair, he closed his eyes and tried to think. How could he fix this? Romano wouldn't listen to a thing he said, especially not from the other side of the bathroom door. _Maybe I should ask Germania for help..._ He thought, leaning his head on his hand. _It's not that I didn't care, Romano... that's not it at all..._ Sighing, he moved to get up, when a small sob stopped him short.

"...Romano...? Are you alright in there...?"

"Shut your dirty old man mouth Grandpa! Leave me alone!" Romano's tear-choked voice floated out of the bathroom, followed by a small cough and a sniff.

"Romano..."

"I said _shut UP!"_ Romano's voice had risen to a near-shriek, but Rome knew what had to be done.

"Romano." He started, his voice calm and level. "I know it hurts. And I'm sorry that I ever hurt you. I really am. I regret it every day, and I know there's no excuse for my behavior, but I think you deserve an explanation, will you let me give it?" There was silence for a long while, broken only by Romano's periodic sniffling, until finally, a sigh escaped from the bathroom.

"Whatever. Make it fast, you bastard."

"Thank you, Lovino." Rome sighed, glad that he was at least speaking to him. "I'll try my best." He shifted slightly so that he was in a more comfortable position.

"Alright, Lovi, here goes."

* * *

"Spain... I want my fratello to have a nice funeral, okay? With... with lots of lilies and other stuff, okay? And... I want it to be an open casket, okay?" Feliciano said, wiping his eyes. Spain, struck silent by grief, only nodded as Feliciano spoke.

"And... and I want everyone to be there. Even... even people who've never directly talked to him. Everyone. Even people who don't like him... everyone." he went on, standing up and walking over to where Spain sat, silent.

"And most importantly... I want you to give a speech in his honor, okay, Spain?"

"Me...?" Spain whispered, the words barely escaping his throat. "I'm no good at public speaking, Feli... maybe you should-"

"No! You were one of the closest people to him! It has to be you!" Feliciano yelled, now angry. "Don't you want to honor his memory correctly?"

"Of course I do, Feliciano."

"Then you're gonna speak!" He yelled again, starting to shake. "You're gonna speak and it'll be the best speech ever! For... for my fratello... please... please Spain..." His anger diffused in an instant, and Feliciano just stood there, shaking, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Please... for Lovino... for Italy Romano... for his memory... please..."

"Alright, Feliciano." Spain said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze and forcing a smile onto his face. "I'll speak, don't worry. I promise."

* * *

"Well, let's see..." Rome muttered, pushing his hand through his hair. "First, I guess I should explain why I only took your brother with me."

"Yeah, why'd you leave me on my own?!" Romano said, his voice dripping with poison.

"I know it sounds bad right now, but let me explain, alright?" A small grunt came from the bathroom, and Rome continued.

"You see, Romano, back when you and Feliciano were just little kids, I worried deeply about your both, though probably not for the reason you might think. Do you remember the story of Romulus and Remus?"

"Those two brothers who fought to the death over who got to found Rome? Yeah, you told us that story on lazy days sometimes. What about it?"

"Well, what I never told you was that Romulus was actually me." Silence crept across the house, and Rome cleared his throat and continued.

"At one point, there were two of us to look after the country, much like you and your brother. At first we lived in harmony, focusing on what was best for our growing country, and sharing the responsibilities. Everything was fine, but then came that fateful day when we had to name our new country. We got into an argument, and one thing led to another, which led to me having to strike down my own brother." Rome stopped for a minute to push his hair away from his face.

"I only did it because at the time I believed nations to be indefinitely immortal. I was wrong. Instead of rejoicing on the naming of our country, I sat in tears as I watched the life drain from my only family. In his last moments, my dear brother somehow managed to find the strength to forgive me, and gave me an honest smile. 'You're going to make a great country.' He said, as his eyes slowly closed. I begged him not to leave me, but it was no use. He was gone. On that day, I made a vow to never forget him. Years went by, my country flourished and thrived. Then one day, you two appeared. Twins. Two adorable little boys who would handle their own country one day. I was ecstatic, Lovino. You have no idea how happy you _both_ made this withered old man." Absolute silence shrouded the house, not even the shuffling of a normally eternally antsy Italian broke it.

"Then, one night, I had a horrible dream. I dreamt of you and your brother. You both wanted to name your country after yourselves, and neither was going to back down. I was jerked awake by fright before either of you landed a blow on each other, but I had seen enough. I was suddenly deathly worried. Worried that I would lose one of you the way I'd lost my brother. Worried that one of you would have to suffer through the eternal torment and guilt that I had to live with every day. I couldn't just sit by and let that happen! As much as it pained me to do so, I knew what I had to do. I had to separate you." He paused, giving Romano a chance to interject with any questions or comments he might have. When he was greeted with complete silence, he continued on with the story.

"My hardest decision was trying to reason out who I would take somewhere else, and who would be left to fend for themselves. It pained me to do this, but I had no choice, you have to understand. I could only be in one place at once, and I didn't have anyone I trusted enough to look after the other of you. I thought and I thought. Decided and re-decided, until eventually, I knew what would have to be done. You were twins, yes, but you were slightly older than your brother. Not to mention, you had always been very smart and very resourceful, as well as careful with your trust. That was something your brother struggled with. He'd trust a robber if he first gave him a cookie. I didn't want to leave you behind, I really didn't, but I knew that of the two of you, you'd be the one more likely to survive on their own. So I left. I took Feliciano and left. I knew it would hurt you, but I suppose I had no idea how much, and I'm so sorry for that." More silence deafened both members of the family as Rome stopped to collect his thoughts.

"So... if that's that... then how come you never came to check up on me? You say you were so worried, but-"

"You must understand, Lovi, that by that point, I was nearing the end of my life. I was getting to be an old man, and it took all my energy to simply look after your brother. I wanted desperately to come visit you, but I just didn't have the energy. I'm so sorry."

"But..." Romano muttered, slightly confused with the slight pity and forgiveness for his grandfather that was creeping into his heart. "But, after you died, and you were able to come visit us then... why did you only go to Feli?"

"Ah, well, that wasn't my choice. I had two of you, but was only able to visit one of you. It's not that I didn't care, it's that, overall, your brother needs a bit more guidance than you ever needed. You were always so wonderfully self-sufficient, and you always seemed to be completely in control over your life and self, that I suppose I forgot that you even needed me. That was entirely my fault, and I regret it. I missed so many important things in your life, all because I couldn't realize how much you wanted me to come see you. I'm so sorry. You must hate me." The hot-headed Italian hiding in the bathroom fell silent yet again, and Rome decided that his story was done. _Better to let him burn himself out. Then he can sleep a little, then have some food. Maybe then he'll be in a little better of a mood._ He struggled to his feet, groaning slightly at the pain shooting through his back. Stretching, he began making his way towards the stairs.

"Wait."

The door unlocked with a soft click, and slowly, out stepped Romano, his face tear-soaked and red. With a small 'ooh', Rome gave his older grandson a hug, gently stroking his hair in a calming manner.

"It'll be okay, Lovino... it'll be alright... It's okay..."

"No it's not!"

"Why not, Lovi?"

"Because..." Romano stopped to sniff and wipe his eyes. "Because I'm the older one... a-and I'm supposed to take care of and look after Feliciano! And... even though I'm pretty bad at it... I still tried... b-but now I can't because..." Romano made a small choking sound and buried his face in his Grandfather's shirt. Rome patted the back of his grandson's head gently and sighed.

"Lovi... it'll be okay. It's fine. No one blames you. You tried your best... and Feliciano will be alright. He's a fighter, you know. You are, too." Romano sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Besides, you aren't dead. Not yet. You can't be."

"...What?"

* * *

 **((A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm completely not dead! The amount of time I've been away is inexcusable, and I know. There's just been so much internet crashing... and purging of things on the hard drive... and drama. So. Much. Drama. But I won't bore you with that. This one's a bit shorter than usual because I know it's been way too long. And I'm sorry. I'll never take THIS LONG again. But anyway, the story is coming to a close soon, in maybe two or three chapters, but I hope you enjoy it to the very end. That would make me very happy. I hope you aren't too upset about the long delay...))**


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